by Lisa Shearin
It made the pointy ears she was about to reveal go over a lot easier.
“I’m an elf,” she told him simply.
“Pardon me?”
“An elf, Mr. Sadler.”
“But there’s—”
“No such thing as elves? What was your college degree?”
“Geology.”
“And now you’re a gemologist and appraiser, which makes you a scientist of sorts, correct?”
“I suppose you could say that, ma’am.” Ben had no idea where this was going. I admit Caera was taking me on a walk out in left field, too.
“And as a scientist you’re aware that discoveries are made every day.”
“Yes,” he replied hesitantly.
“Just because one is unaware of the existence of something doesn’t alter the fact that it is real—it merely remains undiscovered or hidden. The traits of a good scientist are curiosity and an open mind.”
Ben flushed slightly, duly chastised. “But you don’t—”
“Look like an elf?” She smiled, and as if on cue, the dimple popped out—and she released the veil covering the tips of her ears and the jeweled glitter of her violet eyes. Dark hair, pale skin, and violet eyes—that combo had worked wonders for Elizabeth Taylor, and it was dazzling the heck out of Ben Sadler.
Ben just sat there, staring, unblinking.
She went to the bed and sat right next to him. I think Ben was the type who would have felt awkward about a woman he’d just met sitting next to him on a bed, but I didn’t think Ben Sadler had a word in his vocabulary for what he thought of the up-close and all-too-real Caera Filarion.
“I, along with most other supernaturals—that’s a human term for us, by the way. It lumps us all into one convenient group. Maybe it’s easier for them to accept.” Caera glanced over at me and Ian, and gave us a wink. “We call ourselves the people. We used the name first. We were here before humans came out of their caves.”
Ben swallowed with an audible gulp.
Snuggling up to a newbie wasn’t exactly a low-key way to give someone their first gander at the supernatural world, but it sure was effective.
Caera veiled her elven features again. “My disguise for being around unenlightened humans.” Then it vanished again. “And the real me.”
Ben gazed with growing wonder at the top of Caera’s ear closest to him, and raised his right hand ever so slowly. “May I . . .”
“Touch away.” She gave him a playful grin. “I never pass up an opportunity to get my tips touched by a handsome man.”
Ben sucked in his breath and yanked his hand back, blushing furiously.
“Just messing with you, Mr. Sadler. Another opportunity I never pass up.”
Ben slowly reached up and, with one trembling finger, touched the tip of Caera’s left ear, holding his breath the entire time.
SPI had other proof of supernaturals’ existence lined up for the more thickheaded newbies, but I didn’t think they were creatures Ben was ready to meet just yet.
Ben smiled like the sun had just come up. “You’re an elf,” he marveled.
That was thankfully easy. Though I think getting knocked around by a harpy a few hours ago helped speed things along. There was no denying a puncture, cuts, bruises, and a borderline concussion.
“What can you do?” he asked Caera.
Her grin turned wicked. “That depends on what you want to have—”
“Caera,” Ian said in a disapproving tone.
“Sorry. Again, I can’t resist.”
“I mean what talent—” Ben stopped and blushed even more. “That’s still not coming out right.”
Caera reached over and patted his knee under the covers. “You can stop; I know what you mean. Other than enough magic to conceal my more non-human attributes, no abilities.”
“Agent Filarion is too modest,” Ian said.
The elf raised a flawlessly arched eyebrow. “Modest, in any sense of the word, is something I have never been called.”
“Your talent may not be magic, but we couldn’t do without it.”
“And it’s a heck of a lot more practical than most magic that gets flung around here,” I added.
My partner was plain vanilla human, and proud of it. He was hired for his background of five years as an NYPD homicide detective, and for the seven years prior to that doing something in the military that I still hadn’t been able to get him to tell me about. He’d probably have to kill me if he did.
Caera shrugged. “You might say I’m good with people.”
“And you do a better job of it than any of the certified empaths we have,” Ian said.
Ben seemed to shrink back in on himself as it occurred to him that he wasn’t in a hospital, at least not a normal one. “Where am I?”
“A secure and safe facility,” Ian told him. “It isn’t only for your protection, it’s for ours.”
Ben threw a guilty glance at my arm and started to speak.
I sensed an apology coming on. I held up a hand to ward it off. “Apology heard, received, noted, and accepted. You can stop already.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated. “Do you think my talen . . . what I can do can really hurt people? Am I dangerous now?”
The poor guy sounded ready to lock himself up.
“Honey, you’re not dangerous,” I told him. “Well, that is unless you want to be.”
“What if I can’t control it? I couldn’t control it at the museum.”
I didn’t have an answer for that one. He was right. He zapped the hell out of that harpy, and we still had no idea what had set him off. I’d been lucky to end up on the business end of a milder zap. Maybe he’d used up all his mojo on the harpy. Either way, I’d probably dodged a big bullet. I knew it, and from the puppy dog eyes I was getting now, Ben Sadler knew it, too. He’d packed his bags for a guilt trip of his own.
A lot of men would have loved to have that kind of power to throw around. Lucky for us, and for him, Ben wasn’t that kind of man. If he had been, Caera wouldn’t have been letting him pet her ears, and that wouldn’t have been an assessment team waiting outside. When the good Lord had been handing out potentially lethal gifts, he’d picked the right man to have it. Given enough time, we could talk him into believing that it was a gift, but time wasn’t something we had a bushel basket of right now.
“What happens now?” he asked.
“Some of my colleagues are going to come in and join us.” Caera gave him two comforting pats on the back of his hand that presently had a death grip on the bed railing. “We’ll find out exactly what you have and what level of skill you possess.”
“But I don’t know anything,” Ben said. “How are you going to determine . . .” He stopped and I actually heard the railing squeak in protest. My injured arm gave a sympathetic twinge in return.
Caera managed to intertwine her fingers in his. Elves were stronger than we humans, too. “It won’t hurt. Our tests won’t do any more than I’m doing right now.” Her eyes gave a solemn promise. “No one will hurt you, Mr. Sadler; and you are not a prisoner. We’re here to help.” She paused. “May we have your permission to proceed?”
“I have a choice?”
“You always have a choice.”
He didn’t look to me or Ian to get a read on whether Caera was telling the truth; he openly assessed the elf’s face to judge for himself. Good for him.
Ben took a breath and nodded as he blew it out. “Let’s get started.”
7
I’D showered and changed clothes.
I kept extra clothes in my locker, and had to use them more often than I liked. If there’d been a company award for the agent most likely to end a mission covered in a food or beverage, I’d win hands down. I didn’t seek out greatness; I had it dumped upon me.
Vivienne Sagadraco w
as back in the office and wanted to see us.
I hadn’t done anything wrong—well, other than being photographed by hundreds of people in the most public place possible while tackling the man tangling with harpy jewel thieves—but getting called into the boss’s office never marked the beginning of good times.
Dragons as old as the boss and Viktor Kain were rare; but just because they were both dragons who’d seen a lot of water go under the bridge didn’t earn the Russian any brownie points with Vivienne Sagadraco. If anything, the opposite was true.
Dragons, especially the ancients, were highly territorial. In the old days it probably had to do with carving out a sufficiently large hunting ground. It took a lot to top off a dragon’s tank. Then there was their hoard to consider. Nothing stoked a dragon’s fire faster than another dragon getting within stealing distance of their sparklies. Manhattan was Vivienne Sagadraco’s territory and Viktor Kain was tracking his big clawed feet all over it.
The boss had started getting antsy the moment the Russian’s private jet had touched down at LaGuardia, violating the heck out of whatever treaty or agreement they had to stay out of each other’s way.
Dragons were big on etiquette. Being British, the boss took proper manners very seriously. Protocol dictated that the Russian notify her that he’d be spending a few days in the city. Typically this notification took on the tone of a request for an invitation, usually accompanied by a gift of a valued item from their hoard.
Viktor Kain hadn’t asked for permission to visit or sent a gift; he simply showed up, like a creepy distant cousin who’d overstayed his welcome five minutes before he’d even arrived. He’d accused Vivienne Sagadraco of orchestrating the theft of his diamonds, and for the cherry on top, he’d threatened me and Ben Sadler. While the boss was protective of her employees, she didn’t know Ben from Adam’s house cat; but he was a New Yorker, and the boss considered everyone living in the five boroughs to be under her protection. If Viktor Kain racked up any more obnoxiousness points, the boss would personally see to it that he left New York as cargo in his fancy jet.
As Ian and I took the elevator up to the fifth floor executive suites, I could swear the closer we got, the thicker the air became. Dragons were big and so were their emotions. If they were pissed, everyone could sense it. My senses were telling me that Vivienne Sagadraco’s mood had passed the point of annoyance and proceeded straight to a low boil.
The carved double doors to her office were open. I hoped we hadn’t kept her waiting long.
Ian and I told her what had happened at the museum, about the harpy attack on Yasha’s SUV and our conversation with Ben Sadler in the infirmary. We left nothing out, regardless of how insignificant it may have seemed to us at the time.
Ian had learned long ago, and told me, as his partner, that in addition to being one of the oldest living creatures on the planet, the boss was one of the smartest. It made sense that you couldn’t exactly survive for thousands of years without being crafty as hell.
We told her everything, and everything we told her ticked her off even more. Ian couldn’t see or hear it, but Vivienne Sagadraco filled her office—which had always reminded me of something out of Hogwarts—with a low, rumbling growl. And the aura I detected rearing up behind and around her throne-like desk chair revealed a dragon with peacock blue and green iridescent scales that appeared to be experiencing an overwhelming need to bite the head off of something. Fortunately, I’d been assured that the boss found it counterproductive to kill (and eat) the messenger. She was a firm believer that good help was hard to find.
As Vivienne Sagadraco took a meditative sip from the cup of tea on the desk in front of her, my seer vision saw taloned and scaled fingers holding a dainty teacup and saucer. It was as surreal now as it had been the first time I’d seen it during my final interview before I’d been hired. If there was anything that’d soothe the savage breast of a British dragon, it was a cup of tea. The boss probably owned stock in Twinings. Who was I kidding? She probably had a hand way back when in founding the company. God save the Queen, and God bless tea.
“If Sebastian du Beckett is Mr. Sadler’s client through Christie’s,” she said, “then this young man will meet with our evaluation team’s approval.” She returned the delicate cup to its saucer. “Bastian is very selective about whom he works with. Though I do think it odd that he would retain the services of a diamond appraiser, especially one so young and presumably less experienced.”
“Bastian?” I asked.
Vivienne Sagadraco actually smiled. “The man found and acquired some of the most favored items in my own hoard. There is no one better when it comes to precious gems and diamonds. He shouldn’t need an outside appraisal conducted for the Dragon Eggs, with the exception, perhaps, of two of the diamonds. The other five are well-known to him and anyone else in the diamond trade.” She shrugged. “That being said, Bastian is reclusive. He regularly retains qualified representatives to do such tasks for him. He has worked with Christie’s specialists in the past. They are, quite simply, the best at what they do.”
“At least we know one thing for certain, ma’am,” Ian said. “Kenji hacked into the Christie’s HR department computer, and Ben Sadler does work there as an appraiser. He’s the youngest one they have, and he’s been there less than a year.”
Vivienne Sagadraco stirred her tea, then set the spoon on the saucer. “Then it seems the talent Mr. Sadler exhibited to the public may be part of the reason Bastian chose him. I’ll call him and inquire. His accuracy is unfailing when it comes to detecting new talent.”
Ian nodded in approval. “Anything he can tell us will help our evaluation team get a better read.”
I had a question, one I was reluctant to ask given Viktor Kain accusing the boss of stealing the Dragon Eggs. “Ma’am, why would someone steal diamonds using harpies in front of hundreds of human witnesses? You’d think they would’ve done their business before or after the exhibition, or at least after hours when all they’d have to deal with were a security system and some guards.”
“Because the Dragon Eggs weren’t all they desired. Whatever reason they had for stealing the diamonds, perhaps they also wanted to humiliate Viktor Kain, or bring trouble to our doorstep, or expose supernatural beings as real in the most public way possible. Any or all of the above are possible, and more.”
Schemes on top of plots, with intricate maneuvering running underneath. That was what Rake Danescu had said about dragons. With his next breath, he’d told me he aspired to be as devious. I was starting to believe that our problem wasn’t that we didn’t have any suspects; we had too damned many.
“Was Mr. du Beckett having Ben scout out the diamonds because you wanted to buy them?” I asked. “Though if it’s none of my business—”
“I prefer diamonds I can wear. None of the Dragon Eggs were cut with the intent of being mounted for jewelry.”
“What about the goblin and elven diamonds?” I asked.
Vivienne Sagadraco nodded once. “Neither are of this world, and they have no business being here. They are gems of power, and the presence of such stones from a dimension other than our own seldom occurs without consequences. Often grave consequences.”
“What can they do?”
The boss frowned. “Unknown. The fact that our usual sources for such information refuse to divulge what they know only confirms that they are dangerous.”
“I’m betting Viktor Kain knows exactly what they’re capable of,” Ian said. “As well as whoever had those harpies steal them.”
Vivienne Sagadraco added another cube of sugar to her tea. “Our sources merely have knowledge of the diamonds’ capabilities; unfortunately, Viktor and the thief have knowledge and intent. Even the most benign gem of power’s capabilities can be twisted to cause harm. As a gem mage, Viktor can access and wield that power.”
“Gem mage?” I asked. “I take it you mean m
ore than chakra balancing, crystal healing, New Agey stuff?”
Vivienne Sagadraco raised an inquiring brow. “Not a believer, Agent Fraser?”
“After what I got a gander and taste of tonight? You bet I’m a believer, ma’am. Gullible? Not so much. As for what Viktor Kain can do, I know you’re not talking about him waving the right crystal over his forehead to get rid of a hangover.”
“No, I am not. A stone of power in the hands of a mage such as Viktor is capable of catastrophic evil, which makes me wonder why he would broadcast his interest in selling such a collection. He has never willingly relinquished power of any kind, especially beautiful objects that conceivably bestow power.”
“He’s sure not gonna be selling them now,” I said.
The boss gave me a ghost of a smile. “Unless that was never his intention.”
I’d never thought of that. Rake Danescu was right; dragons were devious thinkers. “Though if those harpies were part of his plan, he put on a fine act.”
“Viktor’s passions run too close to the surface for his reaction to have been staged. He was as caught off guard as the rest of us were. He did not steal his own diamonds. It would be like him to announce an auction to give his presence in New York extra credibility. The possibility of owning diamonds such as the Dragon Eggs would be irresistible and worth virtually any risk. Whoever is responsible for their theft should pray to whatever gods they may revere that we find them first. If those diamonds are still in this city, I know that Viktor Kain will tear it apart brick by brick until he finds what is his.” The boss’s eyes glittered. “And he knows that I will protect what is mine.”
Vivienne Sagadraco and her evil sister duking it out over Times Square on New Year’s Eve was probably nothing compared to the destruction she and Viktor could unleash.
“He had the blame quite ready to lay at my feet,” she continued. “He insisted the intelligence I received of a robbery attempt at the Mythos exhibition was merely a cover I fabricated to conceal my own nefarious actions.”
